Never Forgotten
by Diane LD
Summary: Robin Wood, son of a slayer, thinks about his mother and her killer. Set "Lies My Parents Told Me."


NEVER FORGOTTEN

Summary: Robin Wood thinks about his mother and her killer. Set "Lies My Parents Told Me."

Disclaimer: Yes. I own them. I'm Joss Whedon. I'm also a compulsive liar. : ) 

A/N- This fic was inspired by a rerun of "Lies My Parents Told Me," the beginning scenes. Robin POV.

A/N 2- I seem to be doing a lot of POV stuff lately, arent I? And I have more planned. Another odd thing- I'm obsessed with writing fringe characters- Kate, Robin, Andrew. 

REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!!!

So it begins… 

**

I can barely remember my mother these days. I probably wouldn't even remember what she looked like at all if it weren't for the single picture I have of her. All my memories of her converge around that picture, but as it ages and yellows and fades, I find myself clinging to it, hoping my memory doesn't fade as well.

I remember the little things about her; he way her hair smelled, her leather coat, the way she held me so I would feel safe in the dark nights of cold New York City.

She gave me warmth. 

My four-year-old mind couldn't understand why she left at night, and why one night she didn't come back as she promised. Every night before she left, she'd tuck me into bed, kiss my forehead, and tell me she'd 'see me in the morning.' I couldn't understand why she broke her promise.

I'd watch her fight. She was liquid motion, beautiful as she spun and kicked and punched. She said she wanted to be a ballerina when she was younger, but this was the closest she could get. It was dancing, I guess, in a way. It was all a giant dance.

And when that morning came, I was left alone with a stuffy British guy, my mother's Watcher. He raised me from when I was four, but always told me stories and tried to keep the memory of my mother alive. He didn't want to see her forgotten.

Crowley was a good man; he raised me the best he could. He was old, or at least he seemed so at my young age, his face full of lines and wrinkles that gave off the warmth of familiarity. I mourned for him like a father when he died, but he could never replace my mother, and he didn't try to. He suffered as much as I did when Nikki Woods was killed on that fateful night.

I remember hiding behind a bench as she fought a vampire. They parted, and she ran to me. She had to move, leave the scene, go 'fight the good fight.' I begged to stay with her, pleaded, and she crouched down to me. She hugged me tightly, spoke softly, telling me, "Always got to work the mission." 

She hugged me tighter, pulling me deep into her worn leather coat, "Look at me. I love you, but I got a job to do. The mission is what matters...right?" She tried to reassure me, her eyes pleading with me to understand her calling; her duty. I remember nodding, not really accepting it, but I wanted to make my mother happy. I ran to get the stake she had dropped in the fight with the vampire.

She left me at Crowley's, spoke a few quiet words with him. For the first time, in the dim light of her Watcher's house, I saw my mother look scared. The warm, cozy place had always comforted me whenever I was left there, the quiet reassurances of Crowley lulling me to sleep. Nikki Wood grabbed her stake, hugged her watcher, kissed me on the forehead and told me she'd 'see me in the morning' like she always did.

That was the last time I saw her.

The next morning a man came to the door, a policeman in a blue uniform. I ran to him, excited. I always wanted to be a policeman, my childhood dream. He looked at me sadly, his blue eyes full of sympathy, and took off his hat, placing it over his heart.

I was ushered to the next room while Crowley talked to him. The old man's face fell, and the policeman came to me. He crouched down low, meeting my height, and said, "I'm sorry son." 

I didn't want to be a policeman after that.

The funeral was small, barely anything. Just Crowley and me, scattering her ashes in the wind. He had her cremated, just as she had wished, lest she ever rise as one of the very creatures she devoted her life to destroying. We traveled to our old apartment in Brooklyn, went up to the roof. At dusk when the wind was blowing, we each took handful and tossed them out into the sunset. Crowley said that way she'd always be with the sun, but also with the night.

I grew up and learned the name of my mother's murderer.

Spike.

William the Bloody.

From that day I had vowed revenge against him, promising my mother would be avenged. She would never be forgotten. 

The Council hadn't cared much when she died. They didn't cry or grieve like Crowley and me; they went on with business. A slayer had died, another was called. I spoke with them again, years later, and they told me that she didn't matter, she was just another thread in the giant slayer tapestry. She did everything against the rules- fought her way, lived her way. And me. They would have killed her if they knew about me, but they didn't. In my mother's 3 year career as a slayer, she and Crowley worked hard to hide my existence. The Council had no idea I was alive.

Crowley taught me to fight, to be a warrior for good. I took up to following my mother's motto.

"Always got to work the mission."

So I did. I fought in her name, for her memory. I was Robin Wood, son of a slayer, out to avenge his mother's murder. She would never be forgotten.

I came to Sunnydale with no indication of what I might find. I knew things were supernatural around here, Crowley told me before he died. He took out his ancient maps, dating back to the Spanish explorers and pointed to a small town with one bony finger. "La Boca del Infierno," he said, "The Hellmouth."

I didn't know that I'd find another slayer.

I didn't know I'd come face to face with my mother's killer.

Buffy scared me a little at first. The way she moved, with such grace and beauty, I was instantly transported back to a night in 1977 when my mother fought a bleached-blonde vampire.

When I saw him, saw the man...vampire I'd been hunting all these years, I was ready. I was ready to take out my mother's stake and kill him, watch him explode into ashes. He snapped my mother's neck, and I would put a stake in his heart. She would never be forgotten.

No, it didn't happen. Buffy and him are…allies, I suppose. I know they are more than that, but no one's telling me anything, no one's offering any information to me. I'm supposed to sit still, watch my mother's murderer walk free, all because Buffy trusts him. He has a _soul_. A 'Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free Card.'

She doesn't know he killed my mother, but her blind faith in him… well that scares me. There's a big battle coming up, and Spike's a big part of the First's plan, I know it. And I don't want to be caught unawares when the entire situation explodes.

I patrolled with Buffy and him; vampires attacked us, coming in all directions, cornering us. Buffy and Spike have their superstrength, so they each took on two while I struggled with one. As the fight came to a close, Spike came over to me, staking the vampire that was on top on me.

"Little tip, mate," he said in his obnoxious Cockney accent, "Stake's your friend. Don't be afraid to use it."

I glared, refusing his hand to help me up. He turned and walked away, and I replied softly so he didn't hear me. "Just waiting for my moment."

I clutched the stake in my hand, my knuckles white. Blood dripped from my vice-like grip, and I repeated,

"Just waiting for my moment."

Spike killed my mother, on a subway in New York City in 1977.

I looked at the stake, the blood oozing from my hand.

She will not be forgotten.

**

A/N- Review Sundevil009@yahoo.com


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